


All I Have is Yours

by Cosanova



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Setting - Portland, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Established Relationship, F/F, Slice of Life, Werewolves, it's like pre-established werewolves, kind of, quinn lives with sam's family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosanova/pseuds/Cosanova
Summary: Quinn knows Rachel has concerns about New York; not just about her admission to NYADA, but also about Quinn’s wellbeing. The city is home to many cars and few trees and is generally rather unfriendly to animals of the… canine variety, as Rachel had put it. Quinn had argued that dog safety rules weren’t really as applicable to her as Rachel seemed to think, but Rachel had refused to relent.(Or: Quinn is a werewolf, and Rachel is worried.)
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	All I Have is Yours

**Author's Note:**

> for clarification, both sam's family and rachel know that quinn is a werewolf

"What am I going to do with you?"

Quinn bites her tongue stubbornly, staring at the dirt lodged beneath her fingernails so she won't have to meet the eyes she knows are watching her with disappointment. Her teeth protrude sharply, digging into the soft flesh of her tongue. The trivial pain steals her attention from the stinging gash across her calf where the splintering wooden fence that marks the divide between Evans property and the looming trees of Forest Park had torn into her skin. She chances another look at the bloody gash and immediately regrets it, choking on the urge gag. If she were alone she'd probably be choking up her dinner, but right now she knows that would only hurt her case. Besides, she highly doubts that the girl currently fretting over her with a first aid kit would appreciate her vomiting in her house, even if they are, appropriately, in a bathroom.

"Honestly, Quinn," Rachel is saying. "What were you thinking? The park is full of hikers, even in winter, and it's not even seven yet. Someone could've seen you."

"Nobody saw me," Quinn says placatingly. "Even if they did, what would they see?"

"An idiot," Rachel quips, and Quinn scowls. "A wild, dangerous idiot who could pose a threat to pets and small children."

Quinn's scowl deepens. "I'm not a threat."

"They don't know that." Rachel runs an alcohol wipe thoroughly along Quinn's leg. Quinn tries not to hiss at the sting; Rachel shoots her a look that shows exactly how successful her attempt was.

"If you weren't out gallivanting around the woods all the time, I wouldn't have to do that," she snaps. Quinn fights the urge to roll her eyes.

"Rach," she tries. Rachel disposes of the wipe, tearing open a roll of bandages she produces from the kit. Her movements are methodical and practiced, and Quinn knows it's her fault.

"Rach," she says again. "Just— stop for a second, please?"

Rachel does. She looks at Quinn expectantly, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says, and hates how often their conversations start with just that. "I wanted to see you. I didn't even realize how bad it was until I was here."

"That's the problem," Rachel sighs. "Do you have any idea what it's like, worrying about you all the time?"

"You don't need to worry about me—"

"Yes, I do." Rachel's shoulders sag tiredly. Quinn's heart sinks. She leans forward from her place on the edge of the bathtub, leaning her head gently atop Rachel's. The rush of a heating vent hums in her ears, drowning out Rachel's breath.

"I always worry about you," Rachel says. "Every time I hear about an accident or see another hunting party go out, I think—"

She cuts herself off with a choked gasp.

"I know they're not looking for wolves," she continues after a pause. "And I know you're smart enough to avoid them. But I can't help but think about last time…"

_Last time_ . Quinn takes an unsteady breath, reflexively reaching to trace the scars on her chest through the fabric of her shirt. _Last time_ had been a grizzly car accident that had left her in the hospital with the driver swearing he'd thought he'd hit a wild animal and not a girl. And of course it had happened in the aftermath of Quinn and Rachel's biggest fight to date, leaving Rachel with an acute sense of guilt that Quinn still couldn't quite convince her to shake. It had been a full moon, and Quinn had been dealing with some other things that hadn't left her in the best state of mind to be running through the dark as a rocky mountain wolf in. And despite all this, Rachel still managed to blame herself.

"Last time was a one time thing," Quinn states firmly. "Rach, it's been like eighteen full moons since. I haven't lost it once. I'm here, and I'm fine."

Rachel's gaze hardens. "You're not fine."

"I am," Quinn insists. "I promise, okay? You're gonna bandage me up, I'm gonna heal in like a day, and we're finally gonna get through this movie you insist I watch."

The ghost of a smile tugs at Rachel's lips. "You say that like I'm the one keeping us from finishing it."

"I do a lot of exercise," Quinn defends with a grin. "I need rest."

Rachel scoffs. "I thought cats were the ones who slept the whole day," she teases.

Quinn grins. "Rachel Berry, are you calling me a dog?"

Rachel's eyes narrow. "Are you gonna deny it?"

Quinn cranes her neck, lips hovering just centimeters from Rachel's. "Could a dog do this?"

Rachel's breath wavers on her skin and Quinn closes the distance, relishing the warmth of Rachel's mouth against her own. She really did miss Rachel, and everything about her. Winter break is always the longest two weeks of her life. Not that she doesn't like spending time with the Evans and doing as much as she can to thank them for taking her in, but… well, the Evans don't have a car, and Quinn's not exactly encouraged to take on the eight mile run from their home at one end of the forest to Rachel's at the other, especially not in wolf form, which… she supposes she did just do, and had done twice the week prior, though those trips had been made at midnight so as not to attract any unwanted attention. It's a little selfish, she knows, to jeopardize the safety that Sam and his family had so graciously provided after her time with her own family had come to an abrupt close just to see her girlfriend, but… Rachel is something to her that she can't even begin to explain to anyone else. She's not sure if it's a wolf thing or a Quinn thing, or maybe even the result of her getting swept up in the hypnotizingly magnetic field Rachel seems to have surrounding her, but it's strong and it keeps her close to Rachel, which is all she really needs to know.

"Maybe not so eloquently," Rachel pants as she pulls away.

Quinn's mind stalls. "What? Oh, the… dog thing."

Rachel tilts her head curiously. "Get lost in thought again?"

"No," Quinn denies. Rachel lets out a stifled laugh.

"What's going on in that gorgeous brain of yours?" she asks. Quinn blushes, then shrugs.

"I really like being with you," she admits.

"Good," Rachel chirps. "Because I really like being with you, too."

Quinn grins, fingers trailing down Rachel's arm. "I can't wait till we're in New York together."

Rachel's smile drops, just slightly. "Quinn."

Quinn ignores it. "NYADA won't know what hit them."

"Quinn, I haven't even gotten in yet."

"And we both know you will." Quinn reaches further, fingers slipping between Rachel's. "You're the most talented person I'll ever know."

Rachel bites her lip. "Quinn, New York…"

"Will be fine, Rachel." Quinn assures. "It's just another city."

Rachel doesn't look at all convinced, but Quinn's had her fill of fighting for the day. "Why don't you finish those bandages?" she suggests. "And I promise I'll make you everything you want for breakfast tomorrow."

Rachel smiles, then laughs again. "Awfully presumptuous to assume you're staying till breakfast," she quips.

Quinn's grin grows wider. "Just pretty confident in how much you love my vegan pancakes."

"And you," Rachel reminds her.

There's a warm fluttering feeling in Quinn's chest and she looks away.

"Yeah,” she agrees softly. “And me.”

Rachel’s legs are warm stretched out across Quinn’s stomach, which is what Quinn tries to focus on as the gory remnants of a murdered man flash across the TV screen. The blood admittedly looks exceedingly fake, but it doesn’t stop Quinn’s stomach from churning. She turns away, leaning across the couch to press into Rachel’s shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous,” Rachel jibes, but runs a hand through Quinn’s hair anyway.

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut. “Is it over?”

“Not yet.” Rachel’s fingers continue to thread over her scalp. “And I know for a fact you’ve killed some defenseless little squirrels before, so I don’t understand why you can’t even handle the most obviously fake movie blood, much less your own.”

“It’s different when I’m a human,” Quinn mumbles against Rachel’s sweatshirt. “And I was starving and homeless when I killed those squirrels.”

She still gets sick thinking about it. Rachel pats at her shoulder comfortingly.

“You can look now,” she says, though Quinn makes no move to sit back up. “And I promise you’ll never have to live off of woodland creatures again.”

“Promise?” Quinn jokes, and Rachel nods. “Fine. But I’m not giving up meat.”

“I’m well aware,” Rachel drawls. Quinn grins, finally pulling herself back upright on the couch.

“As long as we’re on the same page.”

When they’d first met, Rachel had been a strict early riser. Each morning she allowed her alarm to drag her from the warm tendrils of sleep into unforgiving wakefulness at an unbearable six am, ready to start the day. During the early stages of their relationship, Quinn had managed to convince her to give into sleep until seven, sometimes even eight, but never much past that. In the days that followed Rachel’s nerve wracking NYADA audition, though, Rachel had been more susceptible to late mornings with Quinn. The death of the six am alarm was something Quinn was eternally grateful for, though there are still some days when she wakes to its phantom beeping in her ear. Today, regrettably, is one of those days. Quinn tosses for a few minutes, trying to reclaim the few stolen hours of sleep, before giving in and rising from the bed. Rachel turns, frowning at the loss of warmth, and Quinn fights to keep herself from smiling like an idiot. Once Rachel’s settled (with a new blanket thrown across her), Quinn makes her way downstairs and to the kitchen. Rachel’s dads are thankfully still away on their annual post-winter-holiday weekend trip to Seattle, which Rachel had opted to skip in order to keep an eye out for college acceptance letters (and, of course, to spend more time with Quinn). Groping blindly atop the refrigerator, Quinn retrieves Rachel’s pancake mix and begins to prepare the kitchen for breakfast, doing her best to ignore the uneasy feeling in her gut as she glances over the various New York nick-nacks clipped onto the fridge.

There’s a fight coming.

Or at the very least, a heavy conversation. Quinn knows Rachel has concerns about New York; not just about her admission to NYADA, but also about Quinn’s wellbeing. The city is home to many cars and few trees and is generally rather unfriendly to animals of the… canine variety, as Rachel had put it. Quinn had argued that dog safety rules weren’t really as applicable to her as Rachel seemed to think, but Rachel had refused to relent. Which had left them at an impasse, as Quinn refused to be the reason Rachel didn’t chase her dream and Rachel refused to put Quinn in an environment that would restrict and/or put her in danger, and they both refused to spend four years apart. They’d only talked about it a handful of times, each of which had ended with one or both girls teary-eyed and exhausted and an agreement to continue the conversation another day. Only, with acceptance letters fast approaching, “another day” was becoming less and less of an option.

Quinn, for one, is unwavering. Rachel will go to NYADA and Quinn will go somewhere close by (because come _on_ , she has a 4.1 GPA and a kickass admissions essay, thanks to her parents generosity in throwing her onto the street at fifteen, so she’s pretty sure she’ll have her pick of schools in New York by the time January rolls around), and they’ll be together and it will be fine. Rachel is less assured in her argument, but her stubbornness in putting Quinn’s absolute safety as her number one priority leaves little room for debate in favor of New York, what with all its bright lights and small, cramped apartments. And fine, maybe Quinn has a tendency to let her claustrophobia get the better of her and convince her to shake the humanity for an hour or two in favor of losing herself in the wide expanse of forest, but she’s not _feral_. Her appreciation for wide open spaces doesn’t leave her completely incapable of making it four years in the big, cramped city. Especially not with Rachel by her side.

This, however, is not enough to convince Rachel that Quinn can hack life in New York without incident.

“You’re being so… careless!” Rachel had snapped one day.

“And you’re being ridiculous!” Quinn had shot back. “I’m not a child, Rachel. I’m not gonna wander off and get lost forever in the streets.”

“You’ve never even been!” Rachel had cried. “The biggest city you’ve ever seen is Lima, which is one _two-hundredth_ of the size of New York, and look how that ended!”

Quinn had jerked back, stung, and Rachel had instantly sobered. The mention of Quinn’s time in Lima had knocked the fight out of both of them, and Rachel had softly agreed to table the debate for the moment. Quinn isn’t particularly fond of the memory of that fight, nor the two that had followed it some few weeks later, but if she’s ever going to convince Rachel not to give up on New York, she needs to understand both sides of the argument. She pauses, spoon stilling in the partially mixed pancake batter, and shakes her head with a smile. She’s starting to sound like Rachel.

She’s still thinking through her argument half an hour later when Rachel comes padding down the stairs, looking adorably rumpled in the t-shirt and underwear she’d fallen asleep in. Quinn, slightly more modestly dressed, gives her a gentle smile and pushes over a plate of rapidly cooling vegan pancakes as the last of her own stack sizzles quietly on the stove.

“Good morning,” she greets.

“Morning,” Rachel murmurs. “You’re up early.”

“Blame it on your psychopath alarm,” Quinn drawls. Rachel rolls her eyes (a trait she blames Quinn for) and stabs at her pancakes.

“Plenty of people find it productive to wake up early,” she states matter-of-factly.

“Psychopaths, Rach.” Quinn flips her pancake off the stove and transfers her plate to the kitchen table.

“What does that make you, then?” Rachel points out. Quinn sticks her tongue out childishly, eyes creasing in a smile.

“Very mature,” Rachel deadpans. Quinn’s grin just stretches wider.

“So,” she says after a few moments of quiet eating. “I’ve been thinking.”

Rachel’s eyes snap up, eyebrows raising in an expression of practiced nonchalance. “About what?”

Quinn forces herself to maintain eye contact. “About college.”

“Quinn.” Rachel is instantly cautious. “It’s early.”

“I’m not looking for a fight,” Quinn says quickly.

“We’re never _looking_ for the fight,” Rachel rebuttes.

“Rach,” Quinn breathes. “We have to talk about it.”

Rachel’s eyes narrow. “You weren’t saying that last night.”

“Because we were upset last night,” Quinn explains. “I want us to be able to talk about it for real, without giving up as soon as it gets hard. And before you say it,” she says before Rachel can interject, “I know you’re not the only one who’s been putting it off. I have, too. But I think we need to know what the plan is before we start thinking about acceptances.”

“Acceptances could help us form the plan,” Rachel argues.

“Acceptances give us easy options,” Quinn counters. “I’m not talking about what school I choose or what schedules we get. I’m talking about… long term.”

Rachel’s breath leaves her all at once. “Long term?”

Quinn shrugs, looking away. “I love you,” she says simply. “And I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Do you?”

“Of course not,” Rachel says unwaveringly.

“Then don’t you think it’s important that we understand where we’re headed?” Quinn asks. “In life, I mean.”

“I— I guess,” Rachel admits. “But Quinn, New York isn’t my life.”

“No,” Quinn acknowledges, “but it’s your dream. Broadway is your dream.”

“I’ll have a new dream,” Rachel says weakly.

“No you won’t.” Quinn smiles at this. “Baby, you’ve been working towards this for your whole life, and I love that about you. And if you ever truly changed your mind, I would support you in a heartbeat. But I will _never_ let myself be the reason you stop trying.”

“Quinn, the city isn’t made for wolves,” Rachel says.

Quinn shrugs again. “I’m not a wolf.”

“Maybe not completely.” Rachel’s shoulders sag. “But Quinn, it’s a part of you. A big part of you that lives in the woods and runs and hunts and scares me to death by showing up in my backyard.”

“Well, you know I don’t hunt,” Quinn jokes, but it falls flat when Rachel won’t meet her eyes. “Look, people like me have survived in the city. Even here, Sam’s dad has seen them be completely happy.”

Rachel shakes her head. “Portland’s still not New York. And even if you’re fine in the city, I don’t want you to just be _surviving_. I can’t…”

She trails off, then shakes her head again.

“I couldn’t live with myself if I was making my dreams come true and you were stuck there with me, wishing you were somewhere else,” she says finally. “I don’t want you to choose me and end up regretting it.”

An ache shoots through Quinn’s heart and she leans across the table to take Rachel’s hand. “Baby,” she breathes. “That would never happen.”

“But what if it did?” Rachel asks, sounding small. Quinn squeezes her hand tighter.

“If it turns out that New York is too much for me,” she muses, “and I can’t see myself being happy there with you, then I’ll tell you. We’ll work it out. But that’s a big _if_ , Rach,” she reminds. “You said it yourself- I’ve never even been there. And I’m not gonna let you give up on us in New York without even trying.

“That’s all I’m asking right now,” she finishes. “Can’t we just try?”

Rachel studies her quietly, and Quinn revels in the thought that Rachel is putting in. The two of them had a bit of a history of acting first and thinking later, and Quinn is grateful that this won’t be one of those instances. It’s not that Rachel’s fears are entirely unwarranted; Quinn loves the forest, the quiet of the streets after clubbers and college students have turned in for the night. Cars are clearly not her favorite, and if there’s one thing she knows about New York, it’s that there are always people awake and watching. If she’d never been bitten, never been thrown out of her childhood home and had never found her way to the Evans family, and eventually, to Rachel, she probably would have never considered a life in New York. But now, sitting in the Berry kitchen with a stack of flavorless, eggless pancakes and the most beautiful girl in the world fawning over her safety, she can’t think of anywhere else she’d want to go. At least for a year. At least to try.

“Fine,” Rachel says finally. “If I get into NYADA and you find a suitable school for your own studies, and if you’re still sure it’s what you want, then we’ll try it. But Quinn, you have to promise me that if it doesn’t work out, we’ll find somewhere else.”

“ _When_ you get into NYADA,” Quinn emphasizes, “and _when_ I’m at my own school nearby, I promise that if it isn’t working out, we can talk about it.”

She doesn’t promise beyond that, because Rachel belongs on Broadway and she’s never going to do anything to take her away from the stage, but it seems to sate Rachel’s worry. The tension begins to dissipate as Rachel nods her agreement, and Quinn’s grins unabashedly, partially proud to have won an argument against the reputably stubborn Rachel Berry and partially glad to finally be done with the discussion.

“I still wish you’d visit first,” Rachel mumbles.

“And I’m still not letting you pay for a cross-country trip,” Quinn replies. “Rachel, I’ve been homeless. I spent my entire childhood with people who hated everything I am. And it all lead me to you. I _promise_ things will be okay, as long as we’re together.”

That seems to be the final thing Rachel needs to hear. The two finish their breakfast in comfortable silence as the sun creeps into the sky. Rachel, as usual, angles her body towards the window, engrossed in the sky’s sprawling colors, and Quinn allows her eyes to linger on the slope of her jaw, the smooth skin of her neck and the way the daylight shines in her eyes. Her mind drifts to thoughts of a New York apartment, a window looking over the towering skylines. She thinks of Rachel in front of it, matured and happy, watching the same sun rise over a different city.

“I love you,” she says absently.

Rachel’s answering smile looks like home.

**Author's Note:**

> if this seems super disjointed i'm sorry, i wrote it in like three sittings a few weeks apart. i was working on a faberry magic au and started writing this as a break, so it's not the most cohesive thing in the world, but i hope you enjoyed anyway.


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